


Anathema Enchanted

by Nicnac



Category: Ella Enchanted - Gail Carson Levine, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ... that's an actual tag that already exist, Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anathema is also physically present, Gen, M/M, Pining, but she is a baby and doesn't do anything, way to go tag wranglers, y'all are continually awesome in unexpected ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22029544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: How Gabriel managed to convince Aziraphale the "gift of obedience" was a good idea remains a mystery, but Crowley is going to do his best to minimize the fallout.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	Anathema Enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I'm not going to write an Ella Enchanted AU. I'm not. I have too much on my plate already, and I am only one person. But I did write a prologue for it. And also [an outline](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/post/189906769302/so-summerofspock-has-got-me-at-it-again-she). Somebody please take it and run with it. Run far, far away before I do something stupid.
> 
> Also this is [summerofspock's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock) fault, as per usual lately. I no longer have a devil on my shoulder, just her whispering Good Omens AU ideas in my ear.

Crowley slithered up from underneath the pew and shifted himself into a roughly man-shaped being, settling into the seat directly to Aziraphale’s left. “Hello, Aziraphale.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his expression, the whole of him really, brightening for just a moment before it dampened down again as he looked furtively around. As though Crowley would have come out from his hiding spot before Gabriel had buggered off. Still, Crowley wasn’t offended by Aziraphale’s need to double-check, and soon enough the smile reappeared. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Despite his enthusiasm Aziraphale kept his voice hushed. Possibly because that just seemed like the thing to do in grand old churches like this – never mind that both of them were older than the church by far. Or possibly it was out of respect for the young mother still gently rocking her infant, though in that case he needn’t have bothered. Not only was she all the way at the front while they were seated in the very last row, Crowley could all but guarantee she was paying them no attention whatsoever. 

Crowley shrugged. “I was in town.” This was, strictly speaking, not a lie; he had already been in Frell. What he failed to mention was he hadn’t been planning on attending this christening, or even been aware of it, before the sense of Aziraphale’s presence drew him in. Aziraphale had always felt like a beacon to Crowley, his presence so much warmer and brighter than any other fairy’s. Crowley had never been able to decide if this was something innate to Aziraphale or if it was merely a product of his own lovelorn mind. Then there was the third possibility, the one Crowley kept buried deep down and only took out to look at when he was feeling especially wretched and lonely. The possibility that Aziraphale was doing it on purpose, in the hopes Crowley might be in town. 

“Well it is lovely to see you again. Did you get to see the entire ceremony?”

“Yeah, nice christening. All except for that bit at the end there,” Crowley said.

“That bit at the end… Do you mean _my blessing_?” Aziraphale said, hissing the words in annoyance.

Crowley remained unaffected. “Blessing? You call forcing that poor kid into absolute obedience at all times a blessing?”

Aziraphale’s eyes darted away, and the hands in his lap started wringing themselves together. “I admit obedience wasn’t my first choice. I was thinking giving her the gift of languages. These mortals have so many different ones, and I thought, ‘wouldn’t it be lovely if she could communicate with all of them and help bring people together?’ But Gabriel said–”

“Oh, _Gabriel said_ ,” Crowley repeated mockingly. “Gabriel’s a wanker.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale objected. “Honestly, you can’t say things like that.”

“Course I can. I’m an exile; I can say anything I want.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not an exile. You ran away,” said Aziraphale.

“I didn’t really run away,” Crowley said. “I just, you know, sauntered vaguely out the front door. ‘S not my fault they slammed it shut behind me.” Not that he especially minded most of the time. He liked mortals, loved them even; they were so interesting. It was just that none of them could quite understand an immortal fairy the way other fairies did. Course the other fairies had never understood him very well either. Eh, he was better off without them, the whole lot of them. Well, almost the whole lot.

Aziraphale gently pressed the pad of a single finger to the back of his hand. Crowley swore he could feel the touch searing all the way down to his bones, to his soul. “You know, if it had been up to me, that is, if I had been there, I wouldn’t have let them close the door.”

Crowley smiled wanly back at him. “If you had been there, I might not have walked out in the first place.”

The thing was, Crowley hadn’t even meant to saunter vaguely outward. Not really. He’d just had so many questions. Why? Why did they walk among the mortals pretending to be them, but keeping themselves at a distance? Why did they only ever reveal themselves in as grand a manner possible and only ever at grand events – births, christenings, weddings, coronations, and so on? Why did they bestow “gifts” that were unasked for, unnecessary, and often unhelpful and unwanted? But the only answers he ever got were dripping in self-righteousness, in arrogance and condescension.

Not Aziraphale though. Aziraphale didn’t always understand mortal cultures, but he indulged in them. He marvelled over elvish pottery, puzzled over gnomic prophecies, joyously partook in giant hospitality, practically inhaled every bit of human literature he could get his hands on. He was interested; he cared. When he was giving out blessings he really meant them as gifts, which made a difference. Even when he let Gabriel and his ilk talk him into the really terrible ones, it still made a difference because magic could be a bit finicky like that and intentions had a way of seeping into any spell. Aziraphale always meant well, even when he was letting the other fairies push him around, even when he was being a bit of a selfish bastard, he always meant well, and maybe if Crowley had gotten that as an answer to his questions it might have made a difference.

Or maybe not. Who was to say?

Aziraphale drew his hand back and folded his hands neatly in his lap. “I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. Nothing to be done about it now.”

Crowley hummed absently in agreement. Mind, there was technically one thing that could be done. Funny thing about doors, they tended to lock from the inside. Crowley couldn’t get back in, but there was nothing stopping Aziraphale from stepping out with him. Crowley didn’t say that, though. Crowley would never say it because they both knew the option was there, and if Aziraphale was going to take it he had to do it because he wanted to, not because Crowley asked it of him.

Crowley’s eyes wandered up to the front of the church. The new mother was still standing there, rocking her baby and attempting to soothe her with a lullaby. The baby didn’t appear to actually need soothing, having obediently stopped crying when she had been told to, but that didn’t make a difference to the mother. If anything she looked even more frazzled than she had when the baby had been screaming her head off. Just like Crowley always said, unhelpful and unwanted.

Lady Device was looking terribly alone up there. Her husband hadn’t been able to make it apparently, her family wasn’t there, nor her husband’s family, nor any friends. Even the priest had wandered off by now further into the church. Crowley had been to small christenings before, but not like this one. Just the mother, the child, the priest and three party-crashing fairies, two of which had shown up for entirely selfish motives. Seemed a bit unfair, that.

“Listen, I’ll look out for her,” Crowley said. “The baby, I’ll look out for her. A new mom like that could probably use a nanny, and I haven’t got anything on for the next decade or two anyway. Could do with a little bit of something interesting. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure that gift doesn’t get her into any real trouble.”

“Would you?” Aziraphale said, every bit of him dripping with gratitude. “Oh, thank you. It’s been bothering me, not knowing how it’s going to turn out. Especially when I had such lovely ideas for how my original gift might have gone.”

Without taking even a moment to think it through -- something he really ought to have done -- Crowley flicked his fingers, sending a wave of magic up to the front of the room. Aziraphale’s eyes followed the invisible wave, and then he turned back to Crowley, his expression blossoming into one of absolute delight. The things Crowley would do for that smile. It was absurd really.

“Don’t get too excited,” Crowley said, trying to regain back a bit of his cool. His dignity was probably a lost cause at this point. “It’s just a knack, not a full gift. It’ll be up to her if she wants to use it, and even then she’ll have to put the time and effort in to learn the languages herself. I’ve only made it a little easier for her. Besides, it only seemed right Anathema get a gift from both her fairy godparents.”

Aziraphale’s glee was not abated in the slightest. “You really are so very nice,” he gushed.

“Oi, I’m doing you a favor here. There’s no need to insult me,” Crowley said.

“My apologies,” said Aziraphale, sounding not the least bit sorry. He reached over and gave Crowley’s upper arm a squeeze. “Thank you, my dear.”

Hesitantly, Crowley reached up and placed his own hand over Aziraphale’s. “Any time, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are adored!


End file.
